


Return: 2009 CE (Day 3)

by opalmatrix



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Female Characters, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes being a Principality of Heaven or Hell is not enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return: 2009 CE (Day 3)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmogyral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmogyral/gifts).



> Written for **[purimgifts](http://community.livejournal.com/purimgifts/)** 2010\. Mild spoilers for the conclusion of the novel.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," said Aziraphale anxiously, as the Bentley flew down the exit from the M25.

"Now you tell me," said Crowley, crossly. "Hottest day of the decade, and _you_ wanted to take a little drive to Tadfield."

"Well, you only need be as uncomfortable as you want to be, you know."

"That's not the _point_. It was a boring little town before The Incident, and it's just as boring now."

"I just thought we ought to check up on him. We haven't looked in for ages."

"He was the bloody Antichrist. I'm sure he can take care of himself. What's _this_ mess, then?"

"This" was a busy little modern shopping precinct, the well-thought-out sort with trees and benches. But no urban planning principles known to humankind are proof against Saturday morning shoppers. A line of cars was inching its way slowly into the well-packed lot.

"He's right in there," said Aziraphale sadly. "In the Tesco." Crowley swore as he swung the Bentley in to join the queue.

There was a space with a good view of the grocery entrance from the passenger side - of course. Crowley sailed into it and shut off the engine with a sigh. He tilted his seat back and closed his eyes. "Let me know if anything happens," he said, and apparently fell asleep.

Aziraphale crossed his arms on the bottom of the Bentley's open window and rested his chin on them. He considered doing something about the heat that was building up in the car and decided that it would be incompatible with the spirit of this visit. Suddenly he perked up. "Look, Crowley - there he is."

A tall man on the upper edge of "young" was coming out of the Tesco, burdened by two sacks of groceries dangling from one hand and a child held perched on his hip by the other. Adam's golden curls had darkened somewhat, but he was still a figure out of a painted Renaissance church panel, despite the sacks and his green polo shirt. The curls of the little girl in his arm were much darker.

"Look at that," said Crowley, sarcastically. "Antichrist and _pater familias_ \- the compleat modern man."

"He looks well," said Aziraphale, fondly.

"He looks red-faced and henpecked and overworked," hissed Crowley. "Boring, boring, boring."

The throaty roar of a motorcycle interrupted them. Crowley's eyes followed it as it pulled in. It was an impressively powerful Triumph, red and black and silver, and the rider was female. "Hello, hello," murmured Crowley. Aziraphale glanced at him, puzzled by his interest.

The cyclist swung off her parked bike and doffed her black leather jacket and red helmet with every sign of relief. Underneath, she wore a lime green tank top, black jeans, and black high-top sneakers. Her figure was sturdy but not unattractive, her shoulders were splotched with freckles, and her cropped hair was bright red. Crowley grinned. "Oh, that's more like it."

Adam Young seemed to think so too. "Pepper!"

She put her hands on her hips. "Well, it's never Adam! And who's this?"

"Grace. Say hello to Miss Pepper, Gracie." But the little girl hid her face against her father's neck.

"_Grace_," snorted Crowley. "Hah!"

"But that's a lovely name," said Aziraphale, confused.

Adam's interest made up for his daughter's lack of it. He seemed all too fascinated by the lime green cotton knit stretching across Pepper's curvaceous chest. They saw her back stiffen. And Aziraphale turned to stare reproachfully at Crowley, who was snickering. "Really, Crowley!"

"Just a bit of fun ... oh, all right, then!"

Sulkily, Crowley lowered his shades and peered at Adam for a moment. Adam stopped eating his former best friend with his eyes and, redder than ever, rubbed his head against his child's. "I'm sorry, Pepper: she's terribly worn out. I'd better get her home."

Pepper looked at him for a moment and then relaxed. "It's a tough job, being a dad."

"Too right. Look, give us a call sometime soon - our number's still the same. Maybe we can have a picnic or something."

"You've got it. Give my love to Sophie."

Adam strode off into the parking lot and tenderly tucked his daughter into a child seat in the back of a Volvo estate wagon. The two in the Bentley watched him, Aziraphale with misty-eyed approval, Crowley with well-tended ennui.

"You two! I might've known!"

Both immortals jumped guiltily. Pepper was standing by Aziraphale's window. Her expression was enough to quell an entire gang of drunken bikers.

"Are you speaking to us, miss?" said Crowley charmingly, after a moment. Pepper was unmoved.

"Too right I am. Come off it. I remember you two. Nineteen years ago, wasn't it? Here in Tadfield."

"I'm afraid so, miss," said Aziraphale apologetically. "We were just ... checking on Mr. Young."

"Oh, _that's_ what you call it? He looked like a schoolboy face to face with Britney Spears in her knickers. He's never cared for me that way, not for an instant. Look, Adam bloody well told you lot to stop messing around with him. Didn't he?"

"Yes, miss," said Aziraphale guiltily. Crowley gave him a look of disgust.

"_Didn't he?_"

Crowley squirmed in his seat. Oxygen seemed scarce for a moment. "Yes, miss," he said at last, grudgingly.

"You clear out, now. And if I catch you hanging 'round him or Sophie or the kids, you'll wish you were back where you came from."

She stalked back to her bike. Crowley hurriedly turned the ignition on the Bentley and peeled out of the parking lot as though the legions of Hell were after him.

"Crowley?" said Aziraphale, tentatively, after five excruciating miles.

"What?"

"Next exit, Chipney? I've heard there's a lovely little continental place, with a fantastic selection of wines."

"Who's tempting who, here?" said Crowley, scornfully.

But he took the exit, anyway.

 

 

* * *

_Image of Colin Firth from [a blog](http://kateblogsworth.wordpress.com/category/on-this-day-in-history/page/8/); image of Aiden Turner from [his official site](http://www.aiden-turner.com/portfolio.htm); playing card elements from [here](http://www.madore.org/~david/misc/cards.html); angel wings from [here](http://images.pictureshunt.com/pics/w/white_angel_wings-2270.jpg) and devil wings from [here](http://www.hauntedventures.com/2007NEWTEMPLATES/SpecterStudios/NewFor2008/Wings/LargeImages/LittleBatWingsLARGE.jpg)._


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